


nobody don't like christmas

by chameleontattoos



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mistletoe, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-24 02:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13801698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chameleontattoos/pseuds/chameleontattoos
Summary: "i hate this gift but i have to be polite" poker face - 0distressed skull grunt - 1





	nobody don't like christmas

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone pls enjoy this christmas oneshot that i forgot to post at actual christmas time and then forgot about until i found it in the "finished" section of my writing folder on my laptop

“Hey, boss? You in here?” You ask, ducking your head around the door. You’ve been looking for him for a good twenty minutes.

“Yup,” comes Guzma’s voice. You enter the room to find him with his arms crossed and a grumpy expression on his face, staring into the fire.

He’s wearing the jumper. The absolutely hideous one that one of the younger grunts got for him because she genuinely thought he would like it. You’d have to blind to _like_  this monstrosity, but she tried, and that was what counted.

He hated it, of course. One look at his face when he unwrapped it was enough for anyone to know that. He’s always been terrible at hiding it when he’s displeased. The grunt had been devastated. Plumeria is on damage control right this second, trying to salvage the poor thing’s sense of self-worth.

Guzma turns to face you. His frown lightens, but only slightly. What a big baby.

“It’s just a jumper, boss,” you tell him, exasperated. “A jumper that you’ve only gotta wear once a year.”

“I’d rather’ve got a pair o’ socks.” He grumbles. He unfolds his arms to pick up the mug that you hadn’t noticed sitting on the mantelpiece.

“Don’t be a dick,” you scold him. “It’s Christmas.”

“S’a bullshit capitalist holiday.” He says stubbornly, taking a sip from his mug. The foam on top gives him a moustache, which he wipes away with the back of his hand.

“Stop it.” You're really starting to be fed up with him at this point. “I don’t give a shit if ya think Christmas is a bullshit holiday. To be fair, so do I. But the kids need this, boss.” He opens his mouth to interrupt you. “I’m not done. It gives ‘em an excuse to show ya how much they appreciate what you’ve done for them. I mean, think about it. Sure, me an’ Plumes got plenty of presents. But you got twice as many, and has a single one of ‘em given ya backchat today?”

He pauses to think. “I mean, no.”

You snap your fingers. “Exactly.” You lean your shoulder against the door frame, hyperaware of the mistletoe tacked to the header. You will never admit it, not even on your deathbed, but if he wants to kiss you, you won’t object. Plumeria says he likes you back, but there’s no way in hell you're actually going to _ask_. As if he does, anyway. You're not his type. Way too short. “You gotta at least give ‘em credit for tryin’, boss.”

“Yeah.” He looks down at his jumper, then back up at you. His expression is unreadable. “Right. Gotta give ‘em credit for… tryin’.”

You nod once, turning to go. You really need to be getting back to getting lunch sorted. The grunts want pizza, and you don't want any of them to try using the oven or the stove without supervision.

“Hold up.” Guzma says, lightly grabbing your shoulder. “I gotta… there’s somethin’…”

“Hm?” You turn back around. He’s standing very close. “Uh… personal space, boss.”

He snorts. “Personal space. ‘Course.”

“They’re not gonna start makin’ lunch without me there.” You say.

“Just –” Guzma puts up his other hand. “Gimme a sec. This is harder’n I thought it’d be.”

He pauses for one more second, but then he leans down lightning fast and pecks the corner of your mouth.

You can only gape up at him. “What?”

His customary self-assured smirk is back on his face. He taps the top of the doorframe. “Merry Christmas.” He says, picking up his mug and disappearing upstairs.

**Author's Note:**

> merry late christmas pls send me all ur guzma holiday hcs via [twitter](https://twitter.com/smallest_sun) or [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/136185889)!!


End file.
